So I think I've finally gotten my insurance issues straightened out, and I am extremely thankful that I did not have to sell the car, the dog, or my body in order to pay out-of-pocket for my cycle when I went to the RE's on Saturday morning. The financial coordinator took pity on me and gave me a free pass on Saturday, with the understanding that I'd straighten everything out on Monday, when my insurance company would finally have all of my info in their systems. Which they did, and I did, and now all's quiet on the insurance front, as far as I know.
But this morning was full o' drama at the RE's office, let me tell you! First of all, let it be known that I'm the grumpiest asshole in the morning you've ever seen. R can attest, I'm just not nice to deal with, at all. I hate, despise, detest, and abhor getting up early in the morning. Especially on mornings when I have to get up extra friggin' early to fight the MONSTROUS metro DC-area traffic to get to the RE's office by 7am (ish). So here I am, swinging into the ridiculously miniscule parking lot of the RE's office this morning, which is a ONE WAY deal - all the parking spaces are angled for people coming from the southerly direction - and suddenly I'm nose to nose with a hugantic bright red F-150 type pick-up truck. The truck jams on the brakes, I jam on my brakes - most indignantly, might I add, because I AM IN THE RIGHT, and red-truck is waaaay in the wrong, as he is GOING THE WRONG DIRECTION IN A ONE WAY PARKING LOT, for Chrissakes. Instantly my blood pressure sky rockets, my face turns bright red, and as we're stopped there, front end to front end, I mouth (scream) the words, "What the FUCK are you doing you IDIOT??!!" Now mind you, red-truck driver can see me plain as day, but I can't see who is behind the wheel of this monster truck because of the illegally dark tint on the windows. Which makes me even more angry. Finally red-truck backs up and pulls around me, and as I'm pulling into a parking space I realize the truck is turning around in order to park too. Uh-oh. It dawns on me, too late, that the only other establishments in this office space/retail area - the Sally Beauty Supply store, Acupuncture Clinic, and Quick-Cash-A-Check joint are all still closed at this hour of the morning. (I just realized how funny it is that all of those particular establishments are in a building anchored by an infertility clinic!) Hence, the red-truck driver is more than likely about to make her or his way to the same waiting room to which I'm headed. At this point I'm starting to feel a little embarrassed at my outburst, and I decide to fiddle with my purse, keys, cell phone for a minute so as to avoid an unseemly confrontation in the parking lot. Yeah, prolong the awkwardness until we're actually IN the waiting room together! Great idea! I scrunch down squirming in my seat as red-truck driver, who turns out to be of the gentlemanly persuasion, walks past. Curiously, he seems totally unfazed, doesn't even glance my way, to get a look at the woman who just cursed him out. Hhhhmmmm...
Once I actually get into the waiting room I realize why - he's got bigger fish to fry. He's the guy in the corner of the waiting room trying to comfort an hysterical, sobbing, inconsolable wife. I felt like the world's biggest schmuck, let me tell you. I have no idea what was actually upsetting this couple, but I can vividly imagine a number of failed infertility treatments, or deliveries of bad news, that would make ME cry like that. Oh, it was awful to sit in that waiting room with them, oh LORD, I have seen the error of my ways and I will endeavor not to fly off the handle for petty reasons because you never know the heavy burdens being carried around by the strangers you encounter. Amen.
THEN, just after red-truck driver and red-eyed sobbing wife finally get shuffled off to the back to meet with Dr. D.............. a Woman-To-Be-Reckoned-With comes striding out of the back, presumably having just met with Dr. G, or maybe one of the nurses, God help her. I mean, the look on this woman's face, I can't even do it justice. Every person in the waiting room paused mid-magazine, riveted to the spot, and this woman, long black hair flying out behind her, eyes blazing, nostrils flaring, goes flying up to the 'check out' counter at approximately 98 miles per hour. Without so much as a sidelong glance, not even so much as a flicker of a look at her wide-eyed husband - WHAPPAP - she whips a sheaf of papers with laser accuracy into her husband's lap - WHAP - slaps her 'check out' sheet onto the counter - WHIRR - spins on her heel and is out the door in a flash - WHABAM. Not a word to the receptionist, nary a credit card produced, not a syllable for the astonished husband or even a gesture to follow-me - nada. The poor bastard husband is sputtering and spinning and snatching up papers and finally goes stumbling out the door behind her. Good Lord, the entertainment factor. Never have I wanted to be a fly on the wall so badly - to be privy to the conversation that went on in that elevator ride from hell back down to the parking lot! Alas, I supposed I shall never know, but I'd sure hate to be the Dr. that had to deliver bad news to that bitch on wheels. I was agog at the whole scene - I understand that everyone reacts to the hell of infertility in different ways, but I would no more treat my husband like that, or even my dog, for the love of God.....it was really unbelievable, you shoulda seen it.
Anyhoo, so, rather anti-climactically, here's what's going on with me: the same old shit! Can you believe it? I know - shocking, right? The old ovaries are still scoffing at the puny amounts of Follistim I'm shooting up every night. No cause for activity on their part, heavens no! Much more fun to float around in there like bumps on a log, flouting authority and FSH at every turn. Sigh....so, we're upping the dose to a whole 150 IUs of Follistim, and the next chance for the ovaries to prove themselves fucntioning members of society is Saturday morning. Of course, Saturday morning! Because did I mention how I LOVE, LOVE getting up early in the morning?
Yeah. Well, that's all for now soul sisters - peace out.
K
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5 comments:
WOW - you probably didn't even need a strong cup of coffee after that drama...
Don't beat yourself up over the truck incident. The same courtesy you are affording to others (that they react in different ways to the stress of IF) should be given to yourself. YOU are incredibly stressed, too, and might have angry outbursts because of it. Sorry to hear that your ovaries are being so stubborn, but I thank you for writing an interesting and engaging post!
Well written post. I felt I was reading a page off a novel. The drama is all too familiar. There's just a lot of stress going on in RE clinics! If you could just read the thought bubbles on each person waiting, that would be interesting. I'm not a morning person either. And I thank Mr. Kite, he is, because without him, I wouldn't be able to make it to our early morning appointments. He just bounces off the bed in the morning, while I crawl and drag myself out of bed.
Wow, I'm not sure I could handle that much drama while waiting for my RE. Thanks for your kind comment on my blog. I hope you that your spirit lightens soon, too. I'm going to add you to my blogroll if you don't mind. I hope the increased dosage finally budges your ovaries into action.
Hopefully the Follistim jump is enough to make the old ovaries start growing. (But hopefully not like mine, which apparently were lolling about, waiting to receive high doses of Follisitm with which to explode and start growing at an alarming rate.)
I don't blame you for yelling at the red truck guy. I abhor idiot drivers, and often hear my name used in the same sentence as "road rage." Oops.
Man, what drama!
At least it kept you distracted :-)
I hope the new dosage works it magic on you!
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